This offers more of the detailed scenes only Ocean can script, as well as some stray sly quotables. The tender everyday stuff, like when Ocean consoles his lover after a lost game of basketball, tends to be as affecting as the comparatively intense moments. Oceanwhose voice is joined most frequently by a still underutilized Jazmine Sullivanalternates between offhanded raps and singing that ranges from plainly observational to almost exorcistic. It all snakes along, albeit slowly, akin to a fogged-out lazy river ride with an adjacent big screen projecting a flickering series of memories that veer from ballerific to frantic-romantic. From there, the set is fragmentary - the original tracks average two minutes in length and tend to melt into one another. Its lucidity, crispness, and energy are at odds with the murky, slightly submerged-sounding suite of predominantly fresh material. The sound is introduced and concluded with sections of Wolfgang Tillmans ' 'Device Control,' a composition that obscures the distinction between sound art and dance track. Termed a visual album, upon its release it could be heard only as one minute piece accompanied by black-and-white imagery of Oceanor a team of Oceans, constructing a staircase in a warehouse. This was the first and inferior one, the prelude to the proper Channel Orange follow-up. Later in the month, within the space of two days, Ocean released a pair of recordings, neither of which was titled Boys Don't Cry. Through the processing of reports and speculation throughout the time, and knowing Ocean 's unease with the pop machine, the follow-up to Channel Orange appeared to be imminent, or maybe mythical, or somewhere within the two poles.

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